


The Werewolf Secret

by supernovaness



Series: Secret-Keepers [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Activism, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Canon Rewrite, First War with Voldemort, Good Peter Pettigrew, M/M, Marauders' Era, Nicknames, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, Pureblood Culture (Harry Potter), Room of Requirement, Sharing a Bed, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2019-09-30 08:44:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17220671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supernovaness/pseuds/supernovaness
Summary: Book 2 in Secret-Keepers, an AU Marauders fic.Sirius Black never thought he'd have to understand politics, and he especially didn't think he'dwantto start understanding them at age twelve. But as pure-blood families -- including his own -- start to voice their prejudices, every aspect of wizarding society is affected. Even Hogwarts.Add to that his younger brother getting sorted into Slytherin, Lucius Malfoy deciding to make his life hell, and whatever the fuck is going on with Remus, and it's bound to be an interesting year.





	1. Chapter 1: Summer Secrets

_Hey Remus,_

_Hope everything’s good with you. I expect you’re enjoying the peace and quiet and getting some reading done, which is good of you, since there’ll be no time for anything like that once we’re back at Hogwarts._

_I wanted to let you know that Sirius got here yesterday. Obviously, that’s a bit earlier than he was expected, but he’s okay. Well. He took a midnight flight last night and we found him in some nearby woods this morning, but otherwise, he’s okay. I think he’s just a little restless. We’re keeping a close eye on him._

_Anyway. Can’t wait until you and Pete arrive next week and we’re all together at last!_

_James_

_**Remus,** _

_**I know James just sent you a letter that I’m guessing was about me, since he wouldn’t let me read it. No matter what he said, I wanted to let you know that I’m FINE. YES, I borrowed one of the Potters’ brooms and took a flight in the middle of the night, got lost, decided to rest until daylight, and startled a bear. But it all worked out! No need to worry, although I know you will anyway.** _

_**See you next week!** _

_**Sirius** _ ****

**Hi Remus,**

**Have you heard from James and Sirius? I just did. I don’t like the sound of what’s going on with Sirius. Also, I can’t stop thinking of ways the two of them can get themselves into trouble without us there to talk some sense into them. Hopefully, the Potters’ house will still be standing when we arrive!**

**Peter**

**PS - do you follow The Prophet at all? Have you been reading about that Senior Undersecretary nominee, Archer Flint? If so, could you explain it all to me? I don’t understand it all, but I know my parents are really worried about it.**

\--

Remus felt like he’d aged ten years over the past week. And he didn’t think anyone could blame him, given that he had to deal with a full moon while stressed over the fact that one of his best friends was apparently being reckless with his own life. It didn’t help that Sirius was hardly much of a letter-writer at the best of times. Remus suspected it was because a lot of his communication was conveyed through facial expressions and sound effects. Also, he couldn’t imagine Sirius sitting still long enough to write a sentence, let alone a letter.

So it was with equal parts relief and trepidation that he finally stepped through the Floo into the Potters’ parlour to spend the final two weeks of summer holidays with his friends.

However, he soon realized that he should definitely have been filled with more trepidation than relief, as he was almost immediately tackled to the floor.

“Remus!” cried at least one voice from the mass of tangled limbs that was trying its best to suffocate him.

“Sorry, do I know you? Think I must’ve gotten off at the wrong place,” teased Remus as he wriggled himself free and finally looked at the grinning faces of his three best friends.

They looked good. All of them looked healthy and whole, and Remus let himself indulge once again in a bit of relief.

Especially because Sirius looked great. Remus was pretty sure he’d grown a few inches, and his skin looked smooth and unblemished. He was beaming, but didn’t seem to be wrapped up in hyper energy the way Remus suspected he was when he’d decided to hop on a broom in the middle of the night.

“Hey, you lot,” Remus said, unable to suppress a grin of his own. “Miss me?”

“Yes,” replied Peter instantly, even though Remus knew he’d only arrived a few hours earlier. “Do that calming thing you do to them.”

“I don’t do a ‘calming thing,’” protested Remus. It was true. Mostly he just ignored Sirius and James when they were being too much, and they wore themselves out eventually. For some reason, an image of a rowdy pack of wolf cubs flashed through his mind.

“It’s your presence, Re. I’m feeling more at peace with my inner self already,” Sirius said, donning a pensive expression. “I have begun my path to enlightenment.”

“‘Re?’” Remus repeated. He’d never had a nickname before, and he wasn’t entirely certain how to feel about it.

“Don’t complain,” advised James. “He’s been calling me ‘Jamie’ since he got here.”

“They’re affectionate nicknames!” insisted Sirius. “You like them, right, Petey?”

Peter winced. “I don’t even let my own mother call me that, you know.”

“She doesn’t have half my charm,” said Sirius.

“Whatever you need to tell yourself, _Siri_ ,” said Remus.

This seemed to delight Sirius, who had apparently never had a nickname himself.

“It just makes me feel so much less serious,” he commented. The other three stared at him.

“You did not just say that,” said James.

“What?”

“Sweet Merlin, I don’t think he even noticed,” said Peter.

“What did I say?”

“All right, that’s it. We need to keep score of who makes these jokes. It’s the only way to keep ourselves from going insane before the end of the year,” said Remus.

“What joke?”

“Nobody tell him,” said James.

And so they spent the rest of that first afternoon playing Exploding Snap and changing the subject whenever Sirius started to pester them about the pun he’d unintentionally made.

***

“Did you hear about Iphigenia?” asked James. Remus’s head jerked up from the sandwich he’d been picking at.

“No. What happened?”

“She’s _fine_ ,” Sirius interrupted. “Honestly, Jamie, don’t start in such an ominous way.”

“Sorry, sorry. But she is fine. She’s back home. Marlene and her mom moved out of the Greengrass Estate, though.”

“Poor Marlene,” said Peter.

“Also, Iphigenia’s father is no longer the Head of the Greengrass family,” added Sirius. “It’s been transferred to her uncle. So she’s no longer the heir. It’s a huge scandal.”

“Purebloods are scandalised by the strangest things,” commented Remus.

“Couldn’t agree more,” said Sirius. “Makes my job a whole lot easier. Do you know how often I scandalize my parents without even trying?”

“I think we have a pretty fair idea, yeah,” said Peter.

“Anyway,” James interrupted, “I know you were worried about her, Remus. But she’s okay.”

Remus abandoned his sandwich in favor of rubbing at his eyes. “Thanks. I was. And Merlin knows I have enough to worry about with you lot.”

“Us?” James replied in mock confusion. “When have we ever done anything worrying?”

“You’re the one with all the secrets, Remus. Maybe we should be worried about you,” added Peter.

“ _Et tu_ , Peter?”

Peter shrugged. “I’ve already tried to figure you out on my own, and I’ve got nothing. Figured it was time to switch tactics.”

“Maybe I’m just pretending to have secrets to seem more interesting.”

“Not gonna fool us,” said James. “We know you took Iphigenia _somewhere_ where _something_ happened, after all.”

Remus waggled his eyebrows. “Or did I?”

Remus had gotten used to the prying at this point. It had worried him at first, but he knew there was nothing in the world that would make him tell his friends he was a werewolf.

He just hadn’t realized how many lies he would actually have to tell in order to be close with anyone. Remus had one big secret that managed to put secrets into every aspect of his life. Where he went all the time. Where his scars came from. Where he and Iphigenia had gone. Why he always ate so much. Why his parents wrote so frequently, and why it exhausted him to have to reply to them.

He was grateful, overall, that this wasn’t a breaking point for his friendship with the others.

***

Sirius wasn’t sure he’d ever been as happy as he was when he was staying at the Potters’.

Sure, Hogwarts was great, but there were classes and homework and professors at the castle. Being here, he finally understood why people looked forward to the summer holidays.

It was amazing. Nobody scowled at him when he entered a room, which he did all the time. At home, he tried to confine himself to his bedroom as much as possible, but at the Potters’, he felt free to wander as he pleased. He could make jokes. He could be loud. He could eat breakfast in his pajamas. He could get in trouble and only receive a stern talk about responsibility as punishment.

In his insistence on coming up with nicknames for everyone, he’d started calling James’s parents “Mama Potter” and “Papa Potter,” and he couldn’t help but imagining what his life would be like if they truly were his parents.

So he did not like it when his friends decided to remind him of his real parents, as they did towards the end of that first week they were all at the Potters’, lounging about on the grounds and enjoying the freedom of summer.

“Siri, what happened?” asked Remus. Sirius loved that the nickname, which had started as a way to retaliate for the nicknames he’d bestowed on them all, now seemed to fall almost unconsciously off of Remus’s tongue.

But Sirius shrugged. “Nothing happened. I just wanted to come here.”

“Come on, mate. Maybe we can help,” said James.

“There’s nothing to help with. I just don’t like being there, so I left.”

He watched the three of them exchange glances.

“What does it matter? I’m here now.”

“It matters because we care about you,” snapped James.

“I care about me, too. Believe me. And I can take care of myself.”

“Sirius -- “

“Drop it, James.”

James threw up his hands and stormed off. Sirius tried not to react. He saw Peter and Remus exchange another look before Peter followed James, and Remus scooted closer to Sirius.

“Don’t think I’m going to talk to you about it either.”

To his surprise, Remus grinned at him. “What, does pestering you to give up information not work? I would’ve thought that’d be highly effective.”

Sirius snorted. “Just leave the pestering to me, all right? I’m the master.”

“Whatever you say.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Sirius normally didn’t like silence, but this was kind of nice. Sometimes, it felt awfully loud inside his head.

He grabbed Remus’s hand and pulled him back so that they were both lying in the grass.

“We’re just worried about you,” said Remus after another moment.

“And about you,” Sirius pointed out.

Remus turned his head to look at him. “My situation isn’t going to change. My mother is going to stay sick for the rest of her life. But yours could. There has to be something we could do, if you’d let us.”

“I came here. That is something. I couldn’t have done that if I hadn’t met all of you.”

Remus examined his face, biting his lip. “It’s a start, at least.”

***

Despite the fact that Sirius was only just starting to enjoy his summer break, the end was rapidly approaching. The evening before they were set to return to Hogwarts, James’s dad gathered the four of them in his study.

“All right, boys. I have something for you, but it has to stay a secret between us, all right?”

Curiosity piqued, all of the boys nodded. Fleamont opened a desk drawer and pulled out a mass of silvery fabric. He scanned the row of them and, after a quick wink, wrapped the material around himself and vanished.

Remus stood up abruptly, knocking over his chair, while Peter startled violently. James gaped at the space where his father had just been, and Sirius whispered, “Wicked.”

With a silvery flash, Fleamont reappeared.

“Is that -- an invisibility cloak?” asked Remus.

“Not just any cloak,” Fleamont responded. “This particular one has been in my family for generations. It’s one of a kind. My father gave it to me while I was in school, and now, I’m passing it on.” He grinned at his son, holding out the bundle of fabric. James stared at it.

“You’re giving that to _me_?”

“Of course. I daresay you boys will come up with some good uses for it.”

James continued to stare at it. Sighing, Sirius grabbed the cloak and draped it over his friend’s arm.

“What he’s trying to say is ‘Thank you, Papa Potter.’”

“Thank you,” James repeated, not moving.

“And now, Jamie, we’re going to leave before your father realizes what an awful idea this is. Come on.” Sirius placed a hand on James’s shoulder and led him out of the room, the others following suit. As the door closed behind Peter, Sirius thought he heard Fleamont call, “Why is it an awful idea?”


	2. Chapter Two: The Pureblood Agenda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we start to take a turn for the political.

Sirius seemed especially jumpy as they made their way along the crowded platform. After watching him whip his head around to look behind him for probably the thousandth time, Peter decided it was time to intervene.

“You can stop looking for them, Sirius. We’ll all keep an eye out and let you know if we see your parents, okay?”

Sirius grinned sheepishly at him. “Thanks for looking out for me, Petey, but I’m actually trying to find Regulus. My parents wouldn’t deign to step onto the platform when it’s this packed.”

“Your brother?” asked Remus. “I forgot he was starting this year. You two get along, right?”

“Yeah. He’s just about the only Black I can stand who hasn’t been disowned yet. And he still puts up with me because he’s terrified of becoming the Black heir himself.”

“Where do you think he’ll be Sorted?” asked James.

Sirius shrugged. “I’ve been talking up Ravenclaw to him, but I think it’s much to hope that both of us will end up outside of Slytherin.”

“Well, that’ll be one Slytherin we don’t have to terrorize, then,” said Peter.

“Yeah, being Sirius’s brother is a worse terror than I could’ve come up with,” quipped James.

As they were loading their luggage into the compartment they’d staked out for themselves, a boy who could only be Regulus popped his head in.

If Sirius hadn’t been standing right next to him, Peter would have had to do a double-take to understand what he was seeing. Regulus was slightly shorter than his brother, and didn’t seem to possess the reckless energy that Sirius somehow managed to exude. The brothers would be almost identical if it weren’t for the fact that they were so completely different.

“Hey, Reg,” said Sirius, grinning. “Glad to see you made it.”

“You, too,” replied Regulus. He did not grin, but he did seem to be relieved that Sirius was all in one piece.

“How was the rest of your summer?” Sirius asked in a too-casual tone.

Regulus shrugged. “Same as always. Yours?”

“Much better than usual.”

Regulus rolled his eyes. “You won’t be able to get away with that forever, you know.”

This time, Sirius shrugged. “Don’t have to think about that until the holidays, at least. Hey, these are my friends. Reg, meet Jamie, Petey, and Re.”

“None of those are our names,” James corrected.

“Pleasure to meet you all,” said Regulus, only barely glancing away from his brother.

“Go find some firsties to sit with,” Sirius said. “I wouldn’t want to ruin your reputation by making you hang out with your lame older brother.”

With a last eye-roll and a twitch of the lips that could almost pass for a smile, Regulus left their compartment.

James cleared his throat. “Wow. That was….”

“Surreal,” Peter supplied.

“I’m not sure which one if you is stranger,” said Remus. Sirius stuck out his tongue.

“Me, definitely. Regulus isn’t strange at all, if you consider how we were raised.” Sirius shut the compartment door and turned around to face his friends. “Now, come on. We only have so much time before we’re back in classes, and I plan to make the most of it.”

\--

They were well into their third round of Exploding Snap when the compartment door slid open again. Peter didn’t immediately recognize any of the faces in the doorway, but Sirius was on his feet, practically spitting in rage, so the others stood up to either back him up or hold him back.

“Malfoy,” Sirius sneered at the tall blond boy who seemed to be leading the group. “Couldn’t find anyone in your own year to sit with? Well, you’ve come to the wrong place. You’re not welcome here, either.”

Now that they were all standing, Peter was acutely aware of how much taller the intruders were. What year were they in?

“Charming, Black,” the blond boy -- Malfoy -- replied with a sneer of his own. “As if we’d be interested in sharing air with the likes of you.” Malfoy swept his gaze across the compartment, as if to ensure that the others understood they were included in his insult.

“What are you doing here, then?” asked James, moving forward to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Sirius.

“I simply wanted to give Narcissa’s dear cousin a chance to apologize and return to the family,” said Malfoy, gesturing to a girl with dirty-blonde hair standing next to him. “Surely you can see the advantage to having a change of heart now that the tides are starting to turn.”

“Narcissa?” repeated Sirius. “I almost didn’t recognize you, dear cousin. It’s clear to me now that blonde hair definitely does not suit the Black complexion.”

The blonde girl raised one haughty eyebrow and sniffed, apparently not deigning to give a response.

“Change is coming, Black,” growled Malfoy. “And trust me: You’ll want to be on our side when it does.”

With that, he swept out of the compartment, the others following in his wake. James shut the door behind them. The rest of them sat back down, except for Sirius, who stood, shaking, in the same place.

“Sorry, what just happened?” asked Remus after a moment.

Sirius seemed to snap out of it at the sound of Remus’s voice.

“That was Lucius Malfoy. He’s a seventh year, and one of the most disgusting blood purists I’ve ever met. The girl with him was my cousin, Narcissa. I believe they’re betrothed or some such nonsense.”

“What did you mean that you didn’t recognize her?” asked Peter.

Sirius barked out a laugh. “She’s not a blonde. Or, well, she wasn’t a blonde. You know how certain pureblood families have a distinct look? The Potters have dark messy hair, the Weaseleys are all redheads, the Blacks have dark hair and these killer cheekbones, and the Malfoys are obscenely blond. That doesn’t just happen if you leave it all to chance. There’s some bonding ritual that causes the woman to take on the physical characteristics of her betrothed’s family. Narcissa’s hair will be platinum within the year, I’d wager.”

Remus was frowning. “So it changes her appearance...and she passes down those traits to her children?” Sirius nodded. “That’s insane. They change her DNA? They could use that knowledge to prevent genetic diseases, and instead they’re using it to make sure their kids are blond enough?”

Sirius grinned. “Well, when you say it like that, it sounds insane.”

“As fascinating as this is,” interrupted James, “what was all that stuff he was saying about change and picking sides?”

Sirius shrugged. “There’s some new Dark Lord that started to gain popularity a couple of years ago. My whole family has been talking about it, but it didn’t seem like he was really able to do anything. But then this summer, the Minister nominated a supposed supporter of his to some position or other, blah blah, and now they’re all convinced some sort of Muggle Reckoning is about to happen.”

Peter frowned. “Hang on, I read a little about that. It’s that Flint guy, right? My parents are really worried about his nomination. Didn’t he say that the blood purist riots during the Squib rights marches had ‘good people on both sides’ or something like that?”

“Wait, that guy? My parents were talking about him, too,” said James. “But it’s not like he’s going to be Minister, right? And he can make gross comments like that all he wants, but nobody in the government can actually do anything to support some Muggle-hating Dark Lord. They’d be kicked out of office, wouldn’t they?”

“Maybe,” said Remus. “Or maybe there’s enough people like that Malfoy out here who’d rally behind them and keep them in power.”

“Can’t be,” said James confidently. “Malfoy’s all talk. And anyway, he’s still in school. Plenty of people are idiots while they’re in school. The grownups will make sure a madman doesn’t end up in power.”

James started monologuing about Quidditch, one of his favorite topics, but Remus and Peter exchanged a worried look. James and Sirius might be pretty safe if there was a rise in anti-Muggle sentiment, but a lot of other people they knew -- including Remus, Iphigenia, Marlene, and Lily -- could be in a lot of danger.

***

Maybe it was just his imagination messing with him after what had happened on the train, but Remus felt a tension in the air as he walked into the Great Hall that he was fairly certain hadn’t been present the year before. Several of the professors were huddled together in hushed conversation while shooting uncertain looks over at some of the older Slytherins, who were sitting at the end of their table with an air of confidence as they openly glared at other students. Remus saw that Malfoy guy wink as they entered the Hall, and felt Sirius stiffen up beside him. At the other House tables, older students seemed far too subdued for the Welcome Feast. Remus watched as a couple of Hufflepuff prefects rearranged some second and third years to be more evenly dispersed among the older students.

“All this because of one politician?” muttered James as they took their seats at the Gryffindor table.

“It’s not just one politician, though, is it?” pondered Remus. “I mean, the Minister did endorse him. And if the Minister is willing to overlook blood purity rhetoric in her own staff, then why shouldn’t private citizens be allowed to voice similar views?”

Sirius looked around uneasily. “I thought they were already voicing their views fairly loudly. I didn’t realize they could get louder.”

Before Remus could think of a response, Professor McGonagall led the first years on stage.

As Sirius watched the Sorting, Remus watched him. He didn’t have any siblings, but he could tell how worried Sirius was about his brother, despite how much he disliked the rest of his family. He was reminded of something his mother had once told him: Some people in dangerous situations adapt by standing up for themselves, and some people adapt by befriending their oppressor. Remus thought the Black brothers demonstrated this pretty well.

It wasn’t long at all before McGonagall was calling for “Black, Regulus.” Remus watched as Sirius froze, almost as if he’d stopped breathing.

It felt like Regulus’s Sorting took an abnormally long time, but maybe that was just because he was counting every beat of his pulse as he watched the tension on his friend’s face.

Finally, the Hat reached a decision: “SLYTHERIN!”

As the Slytherin table broke into cheers, all three of Sirius’s dorm mates turned to look at him.

“He’ll be okay,” said James. “They’ll be thrilled to have him.”

“And we can still protect him,” added Remus.

Sirius just nodded, his eyes tracking his brother as he joined his new House. A shiver ran down Remus’s spine, and he inexplicably felt as though battle lines had just been drawn.

***

The new inter-House tension had not decreased by the time James entered the Great Hall for breakfast on the first day of classes. If anything, he thought it might be getting worse; some seventh-year Gryffindors were loudly insulting some of their Slytherin counterparts, as if hoping they’d start a fight.

“Did something happen?” James asked as he joined his friends at their table.

“Apparently someone egged the Muggle Studies classroom last night,” said Peter.

James frowned. “They egged it? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m glad they didn’t do more damage, but doesn’t that seem a little juvenile?”

“The Muggle Studies professor’s last name is Egg,” explained Remus.

“Ah.”

“I bet they’re wasting no time indoctrinating the younger students with this bullshit,” grumbled Sirius. James patted his shoulder comfortingly.

“There has to be something we can do,” said James.

“Yeah, we can shove Malfoy’s wand up --”

“ _No_ ,” said Remus, cutting Sirius off.

“Yeah, I wasn’t going to suggest anything quite that vulgar,” said James.

“I mean no to getting involved in any of it. The best way to prove them wrong about Muggleborns and blood traitors and whatever else they decide to call us is by keeping our heads down and acing every subject Hogwarts throws our way.”

James suddenly felt like he understood Remus much better.

“That’s what you would have done anyway, though,” pointed out Sirius.

“Maybe I’ve got something to prove anyway,” muttered Remus.

“Isn’t doing nothing just letting them win, though?” said James.

“Yes,” said Sirius.

“No,” chimed in Peter. 

They all turned to look at him. 

“I think Remus is right,” he continued. “Retaliating is just going to play into their hand. And anyway, what are we going to do? Look at the seventh years.” He gestured further down their table, where a few of the older Gryffindors had started arm wrestling. “If anyone’s going to do something, it will be them. Let’s just stay out of it for now, yeah?”

James looked at Sirius, and knew instantly that staying out of it was not an option. For Sirius, this was personal. And he had a look in his eye that James knew meant exciting, poorly-thought-out plans were forming in his head.

“Yeah,” James said. “Come on, let’s just head to class.”

He led the way to Defence Against the Dark Arts, wondering how he was going to keep his best friend from getting himself killed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Narcissa's hair being blonde has always bothered me. What, she's the only blonde in the Black family, and she also happened to marry into the very blonde Malfoy family? And then I started thinking about how often in pureblood culture people seem to marry someone whose phenotype matches their own, and decided something had to be going on there.


	3. Chapter 3: Dark Arts

“Good morning, class. I am Professor Fowler, and I will be your Defence professor for this year.”

Professor Fowler was a tall, intimidating man who reminded Sirius of the stiff, unsmiling portraits of purebloods from the 1800s in his father’s study. His greying brown hair fell in loose waves to just below his ears, and he had a well-groomed mustache that would have been the focal point of his face if not for his stern, bushy eyebrows, which Sirius couldn’t look away from. Overall, he didn’t give off the demeanor of someone accustomed to working with children.

“I see in the notes from last year’s professor that you have some grasp on basic defensive spells, so this year, we will be diving more deeply into the theory as we work on more complex charms and counter-curses. To begin with: What makes a spell Dark?”

This question was met with silence. Sirius wracked his brain. He was fairly sure that he was the only Gryffindor who had been raised in a house filled with Dark magic, and felt that he, if anyone, should be able to provide an answer. But he couldn’t come up with anything other than, “It just feels Dark.”

Professor Fowler, however, seemed pleased with their silence.

“Excellent. I am glad that none of you answered by telling me that magic is Dark if it’s evil, or if it is intended to harm someone. Who can give me an example of a spell that can be used both for harm and for another purpose?”

Remus’s hand was up immediately.

“Yes, Mr. --?”

“Lupin, sir. The Smokescreen Spell?” Professor Fowler inclined his head, inviting Remus to elaborate. “Well, it can be used as a defense if you’re being attacked, but it could also be used to create confusion or attack someone, couldn’t it?”

“Indeed. Ten points to Gryffindor, Mr. Lupin. Anyone else have an example?”

Professor Fowler began to write on the board as students offered answers. As the list grew to include the Knockback Jinx and the Full Body-Bind Curse, Sirius started to notice that just about everything they’d learned in Defence the year before could be used by an aggressor as easily as a defender.

“Excellent,” said Professor Fowler after a few minutes, stepping back to admire their list. “Another ten points for every answer on the board. “So. Are any of these spells Dark?”

Another uncertain silence fell over the room.

“Very good. There will be many times in this class when being unsure is, in fact, the correct answer. What about the Killing Curse? Is that Dark?”

“Well, it’s Unforgivable,” offered Macdonald. “The Unforgivables are all Dark, aren’t they?”

“A fascinating question. Tell me, is it the use of the Killing Curse, or the act of killing someone, that is Dark?”

“It’s the curse,” said Sirius, without thinking. Professor Fowler raised a bushy eyebrow at him.

“How do you figure, Mr. --?”

“Black,” said Sirius, noticing the flash of interest that passed over the professor’s face. “Well, it’s sort of like you said, isn’t it, Professor? The Knockback Jinx, for example, could be used at the top of a flight of stairs and end up killing someone, but that’s not Dark magic. It’s not even difficult magic. But the Killing Curse can’t be blocked. And it’s very difficult to use, right? You have to draw from a Dark source. I think.”

“Very good. Take twenty points, Mr. Black. Yes, when we speak of ‘Dark’ magic, we’re talking about spells, potions, and rituals that require the witch or wizard to tap into a source more powerful than their ordinary magical reserves. Sometimes, that’s magic from the Earth, or from blood. But sometimes, that’s magic that is activated by the witch or wizard’s own strong emotions.”

“How can an emotion tap into a Dark source?” asked Evans.

“An excellent question.” Professor Fowler tapped the board with his wand. An outline of a human body appeared. “Magic isn’t like air, which our bodies breathe in and then use.” Arrows animated on the board to show the flow of air through the nose and mouth, into the rest of the body. “It’s more like thought.” Another tap changed the arrows so that they began internally, near the chest, and radiated outwards. “It begins within us, and only works when everything else is functioning well. A lot of our magic happens without us consciously making any decisions, but, just like thoughts, magic can be trained. And, again like thoughts, not everyone uses magic in the same way. Some magical theorists believe that there are parts of our magical cores that wizards haven’t even figured out how to access yet. As you may know, blood and Earth energy both require physical sacrifices to take effect. Does anyone know what sort of sacrifice Dark spells like the Unforgivables require?”

As silence fell over the class for the third time, Peter, who Sirius could rarely call ever speaking up in class, slowly raised his hand.

“Magical energy,” he said. “And -- innocence.”

Professor Fowler nodded. “Very good. Twenty points to Gryffindor. Yes, performing curses like these puts one at risk of magical exhaustion, but it also takes a deeper toll on the witch or wizard. Throughout history, there have been reports of people being changed using so-called Dark Arts, and never for the better.

“So. While the Knockback Jinx could be used to kill as surely as the Killing Curse, only one is Unforgivable, and only one can be claimed to be defence. Even if you are attacked first, no lawyer has ever successfully defended someone for using an Unforgivable.”

***

Remus never fully appreciated his full moon Room at Hogwarts until he spent a couple moons at home over the summer holidays. He had forgotten how hot it got in his parents’ cellar in the summer; the Room always managed to be a comfortable temperature.

So maybe it was anticipation of a better full moon that led him to the Room earlier than usual. Or maybe it was the restlessness and irritability that the moon bright on that he could never quite contain.

Or maybe he just missed the Room.

It was strange to think of it as something with a personality, but he thought it'd be somehow stranger not to.

Regardless, he found himself in the Room hours before nightfall with a pile of homework.

The Room provided him with a desk immediately and, a little while later, with a matchstick to practice transfiguration on.

Moments later, Remus was staring in surprise at the silver needle on the desk. He had never been able to complete that transfiguration so quickly before.

He examined newly formed needle. Where had the matchstick the Room had given him come from? For all he knew, maybe the matchstick had actually originally been a needle, and he was just reversing an earlier transfiguration. Or maybe the Room had replaced the matchstick with a needle, and Remus only thought that he'd done the spell.

He'd need to test this further. He jotted down a note to himself to bring matchsticks into the Room next time, so that he could compare them to the ones the Room provided. And maybe the library had a book that might help him understand how the Room's magic worked…

His hand spasmed, smudging the end of his sentence. The moon would be rising soon. Remus hastily packed up his things, and stored then with his clothes on a high shelf.

The next spasm racked his whole body. Remus fell to the floor.

He felt warm air wrap around him. His last coherent thought was that the Room was trying to soothe him.

***

Sirius couldn’t stop himself from examining Regulus out of the corner of his eye as they walked around the Lake, eating toast with jam that he’d grabbed from the Great Hall before they’d met. Regulus didn’t look hurt or upset, but he held himself with such perfect regal stiffness that Sirius had a hard time reading him.

“Stop staring at me,” Regulus said.

“How’re the snakes treating you?” asked Sirius, staring more blatantly.

“You forget that our entire family is Slytherin. I’m more than used to it.”

“That’s not exactly a comfort.”

Regulus shrugged, delicately licking jam off his fingers. “They’re all about what you’d expect. The first years are mostly vying for power, and the older students are consolidating theirs.”

“And you?”

Regulus raised an eyebrow. “Blacks don’t vy for power. We just have it.”

Sirius sighed. “I really think you’d be better off in Ravenclaw.”

“Don’t joke. Mum and Dad would’ve had a fit if neither of us were in Slytherin.”

“More’s the pity.”

“Easy for you to say. You haven’t really had to live at the house lately.”

Sirius stopped in his tracks and reached out to spin his brother towards him.

“Reg. Did something happen after I left?” he asked, guilt coiling in his gut.

“Just more of the usual.” Regulus wasn’t meeting his eye.

“I thought it might be better without me there to provoke them.”

Regulus laughed. “We both know they don’t need provoking. Listen, it’s not your responsibility, all right? Not to protect me from them, not to protect me from the Slytherins.”

“Of course it’s my responsibility! I’m your brother.”

Regulus sighed and resumed walking. “Protect yourself for once, would you?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ve heard about Archer Flint, right?”

Sirius blinked at the subject change. “The Senior Undersecretary or whatever? What about him?”

“The Slytherins are all talking about it. Most are trying to figure out what it means for the political landscape. But some of them are taking it as the Minister signing off on some of their beliefs. They’re talking about it being ‘open season’ on Mudbloods and blood traitors.”

“Don’t say ‘Mudbloods.’”

Regulus laughed harshly. “That’s your response? I just told you that you are probably in danger, and you’re chastising me for my language?”

Sirius grinned. “What sort of Gryffindor would I be if I cared about being in danger?”

“Merlin’s beard. Your friends, then. All of you. Just watch out, won’t you?”

Before Sirius could think of a response, Regulus was checking his watch in a smooth, practiced movement that reminded him of their father.

“I should go. I’m not entirely sure if I’m supposed to be speaking with you.”

“All the more reason to do so, then.”

“Sirius. I’m being -- I’m being earnest here. Take care of yourself. For me, all right?”

Sirius examined his little brother’s face. Regulus had been born old, as far as Sirius was concerned, but today he was certain there were wrinkles starting to form on Regulus’s face.

“I’ll try.”


	4. Chapter 4: Glamour

Remus woke up and instantly wished he hadn’t. He was sore all over and felt like could sleep for days. His nose was completely blocked up, and his mouth tasted like blood.

“Remus? Remus, dear, can you hear me?”

Remus slowly turned his head to look at Madam Pomfrey, who was anxiously observing him.

“What time is it?” he asked, his voice raspy.

“It’s eight in the evening.”

He tried to sit up, but was met by a sudden pain in his side that kept him down.

“How can it be so late? I’ve never slept so late.”

“You were...quite badly injured last night, dear. Much more so than usual.”

Ah. That would explain why he felt like he’d been run over by the Hogwarts Express.

“Why? I’d been fine! I was handling it.”

“Well,” she began. She seemed uncomfortable with this conversation. “As you know, there’s not a lot of research on werewolves, by and large. But I did some reading over the summer, and a couple texts make mention that, for werewolves who were bitten as children, adolescence can be an especially rough time.”

“Adolescence? So, multiple years of transformations like this?”

“I’m afraid so. I’m sure you’ve heard some of the legends about werewolves: they’re powerful, they’re fast, they’re alluring…”

_They’re evil_ , added Remus in his mind.

“And, as you know, you yourself haven’t exhibited most of those traits yet. It seems that they don’t start to exhibit until the werewolf approaches adulthood -- “

“I’m only twelve!”

“Which is around the age when humans start to experience physical changes as well, as you know.”

Remus blushed. He wouldn’t very likely forget the Changing Bodies seminar they’d all sat through the year before.

“What can I do? I can’t be out this long every month.”

Madam Pomfrey’s expression changed to one of pity. “I don’t think there’s much we can do but be as prepared as we can.”

Remus groaned. Just when he thought he had the whole secret werewolf thing under control, it got worse.

“Speaking of which,” Madam Pomfrey began cautiously. “I know I’m probably the last person you want to talk to about this, but it seems likely that you will experience...an increase in physical urges. Even more than your peers, I mean.”

Remus imagined any unbruised skin that he had left was bright red at this point. No, he definitely did not want to be talking about this.

“Those desires will be especially heightened during the full moon. And, well, there’s some speculation that werewolfs excrete extra pheromones before the moon, as well. Which would theoretically serve the purpose of luring prey to come seek the werewolf out at night.”

If he could survive this conversation, surely he could survive whatever sort of super-puberty the wolf had in store for him.

“Well. I imagine that’s quite enough of that for one day. I have another round of potions for you, but I’m afraid they’ll put you back to sleep. Would you like some dinner first?”

Remus nodded, grateful for the change in subject. It seemed like he’d be here for at least another day. He wished he could spend the time catching up on schoolwork, but he could already feel his eyelids growing heavy, and knew he’d barely make it through dinner.

It was going to be a long year.

\--

“Remus?”

Remus froze, the door to the hospital wing half open. He had come face-to-face with Peter. He silently cursed himself for not asking Madam Pomfrey to check the halls before he left.

Peter was frowning at him. “Why were you in the hospital wing? I thought you were visiting your mother again.”

“I – err – I was supposed to, but then I got sick and couldn't make the journey,” he explained feebly.

“You should've asked someone to tell us! We would have come down to visit you.”

“You all had classes!”

Peter rolled his eyes at him. “I know. You could've given us all an excuse to cut!”

As far as Remus was concerned, his friends being willing to cut class just to visit him while he was sick was akin to them offering to help him hide a dead body, and he said as much to Peter.

“You take your classes way too seriously,” Peter told him as they walked up to Gryffindor Tower.

“I think maybe the problem is that the rest of you don't take them seriously enough.”

***

Sirius looked at his watch to find that another sleepless half hour had passed by. He sighed and pulled himself up out of the bed. Maybe if he went and got some water, he’d be feeling more tired by the time he got back into bed.

He moved as lightly as he could across the room, not wanting to wake any of his friends. He was so focused on trying to stay quiet, that he didn’t realize light was already spilling out from the crack under the bathroom door until he pulled it open.

Remus was standing at the sink, washing his hands. They stared at each other in shock for a moment -- a moment that was just long enough for Sirius to take in the dark bags under Remus’s eyes and the scars all over his skin -- before the image flickered and a healthier, whole-er Remus was looking at him.

“Sirius,” he said with a pained smile. “I didn’t hear you.”

But Sirius was not in the mood for that. He was already moving closer to his friend. As his hand circled Remus’s wrist, he felt a jolt ripple through the other boy’s muscles, but he didn’t pull away. Sirius ran his fingers over Remus’s forearm, feeling the raised scars that were there under what Sirius now knew must be a glamour.

“Who’s hurting you?” he whispered. The scars were everywhere. How had he managed to go so long without any of them seeing him un-glamoured?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Remus’s voice was quiet, but Sirius thought it also sounded more high-pitched than usual.

“Re. Come on. I won’t tell the others if you don’t want me to, but don’t pretend with me.”

Remus was searching his face. Sirius resolutely met his eyes, not sure exactly what his friend was looking for.

“No one’s hurting me. I promise. I was in an accident when I was little, that’s all. I don’t like to talk about it, so I just keep it hidden.”

“That sounds like a lot of work.”

Remus shrugged, pulling his arm out of Sirius’s grip. He wanted to say more, to tell Remus that he could be himself with his friends, at least, but he was worried that might be pushing it. So instead:

“I could help teach you how to keep your glamour maintained while you’re sleeping.”

Remus’s eyebrows shot up. He considered Sirius for another moment. Sirius waited more anxiously this time, not what sure what he’d say if Remus asked the question that he knew must be on the tip of his tongue, one that would be perfectly fair for him to ask.

“Sure,” Remus said at last, and Sirius relaxed a smidge. “Thanks, that’d be great.”

Sirius smiled at him. Remus returned it before brushing past him. In no time, he was out the door and gone.

Sirius regarded his own reflection in the mirror. How long had it been since he’d seen his own countenance with no glamour? Sure, most days, if there were no soulmate marks to hide, his glamour was much less comprehensive than Remus’s. But being a Black had always meant that there were consequences to anything less than perfection.

Sirius dropped his glamour all at once. His skin seemed a little less brilliant, and his eyes looked a little more tired. Maybe his hair had a little less luster to it, although he wasn’t aware of consciously having glamoured it.

He wasn’t vain, not really. It was his parents who cared about how he looked. And if he happened to enjoy some of the attention that came along with it, well, was that such a bad thing?

He left his glamour down as he turned to the bathroom door, his thirst and insomnia forgotten. If his parents’ desire for him to look the part of the Perfect Black Heir was the only reason he was keeping it up, all the more reason to stop maintaining it immediately.

***  
James wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Peter more excited than he was in this moment, as he lead the rest of their group to a seemingly random stretch of hallway not too far from the Potions classroom.

“You better have not brought us all the way here for potions, Petey. I get enough of that during class,” grumbled Sirius.

“Call me ‘Petey’ again and you’ll never know what I was going to show you,” retorted Peter. They all knew it was an empty threat, though; so far, none of them had been able to shake Sirius’s nicknames. James would never admit it, but he was even starting to find them slightly endearing.

“Come on, Peter. Tell us what this is all about,” said James as they stopped outside of two plain wooden doors.

“Gentlemen,” Peter began, “what you’re about to see is the most important thing since the 18th Century addition of bathrooms to Hogwarts. As you’ll all recall, last year, our dear Remus whisked poor Iphigenia away to an undisclosed location within this very castle.”

James whipped his head around at that, and he could see Sirius doing the same. Was this the site of whatever had happened at the end of last year?

“While that exact location remains a mystery, I started to wonder what other mysteries Hogwarts might be hiding. While it’s impossible that there might be entire rooms, passageways, chambers, even wings of the castle that are hidden with absolutely no indication that they exist at all, magic as old as the magic that enchants Hogwarts is bound to leave some traces now and then. And sometimes, magic wants hidden things to be found. So, I started keep an eye out, and I found this.”

With a flourish, Peter opened the first door. The other three crowded around excitedly to peer into what seemed to be --

“A broom cupboard?” said Sirius.

“Exactly. And, right next to it --” Peter swung the second door open.

“A second broom cupboard,” said Remus.

“Precisely.” Peter stepped back and observed the three of them, with an air that was frighteningly similar to Professor McGonagall waiting for them all to grasp a concept.

James looked back and forth between the two broom cupboards. There was nothing especially remarkable about either one of them, except…

“They’re identical,” he said.

It was true. The cracks on the walls, the placement of the shelves, the layer of dust coating all the equipment -- all of it was exactly the same in both of the cupboards.

“That’s not all, either,” said Remus, who was moving his neck back and forth to look at the cupboards from different angles. “Look at the wall between the two doors. It doesn’t take up the right amount of space.”

James stepped forward for a closer look and realized what Remus meant. In the right-hand cupboard, the wall seemed to extend past where the doorway should be for the second cupboard, but the left-hand one was the same exact size. While James wasn’t unfamiliar with magical space, it did seem especially odd on top of everything else.

Peter was grinning at them. “Want to look inside?”

The other three eagerly followed him in, pushing past cleaning supplies and cobwebs until suddenly, they were in a completely different space.

“Whoa,” said Sirius.

James couldn’t help but agree. The space wasn’t especially large or exciting, but the fact that it existed at all, and that Peter had found it, was incredible. It was much cleaner than the cupboards they’d just passed through, and somehow brighter, despite being underground and having no windows.

“What is it _for_ , though?” wondered Remus.

“I’m not sure,” admitted Peter. “I think maybe it’s just a hideout. Somewhere for students to be safe from attackers, maybe?”

“It’s not big enough for all the students, though,” James pointed out.

“Maybe it adjusts depending on how many people enter,” said Peter. “Or maybe…”

“Maybe there are more of these throughout the castle,” finished Remus.

“Whoa,” Sirius repeated. “This is brill, Petey.”

Peter beamed at him and, for once, didn’t even chastise Sirius for calling him “Petey.”

“This one isn’t even _your_ secret location, right, Remus?” said James.

“I’m very flattered that you think I’d be able to hide my reaction this well if it was,” replied Remus.

James grinned. “We’ll have to keep looking, then.”

***

Sirius was pretty sure that the others were asleep when he snuck over to Remus’s bed.

“Re?” he whispered. A moment later, the curtains were parted. His eyes had adjusted enough to the darkness of the room that he could see Remus’s concerned expression peek out through the gap.

“Sirius? You okay?”

“Of course. Still want me to teach you how to glamour yourself in your sleep?”

Remus raised an eyebrow and tilted his head, which Sirius took as an invitation to scoot himself onto the bed next to Remus.

Sirius knew that Remus was likely lying about the cause of his scars. Peter had told him and James about running into Remus coming out of the Hospital Wing, which felt like just the latest in a long series of things about Remus that just didn’t quite add up. Sirius was almost tempted to tell James and Peter about Remus’s scars and his glamour, but he had promised that he wouldn’t. And anyway, it was much more exciting to be here, one step closer to Remus’s secret than the others.

“Were you asleep?” Sirius whispered.

“You don’t have to whisper,” replied Remus. “I’ve charmed my curtains so that when they’re closed, they create a sound barrier. Nobody can hear us. When one of you starts snoring, sometimes I charm it so that I can’t hear outside, either.”

Sirius frowned. “But what if there’s some sort of emergency?”

Remus shrugged. “One of you better open my curtains, then. And no, I wasn’t asleep.”

Sirius repositioned himself so that he was leaning against the headboard next to Remus. “You’re going to have to drop your glamour for me to teach you this, you know.”

Remus grimaced. “I hadn’t thought about that.”

“It’s pretty dark. I probably won’t even be able to tell.”

Remus laughed humorlessly. “You’ll be able to tell.”

Sirius was about to debate that when Remus proved his point by dropping the glamour.

The boy before him was still very clearly the same Remus, but he was also almost a stranger. Sirius knew from the glimpse he’d gotten before that there were other, pale scars that he couldn’t make out, but the ones he could see were thick and jagged. One extended from Remus’s forehead to the corner of his mouth. Another was peeking out from behind his ear and ran all the way down past the collar of Remus’s pajama shirt. Sirius’s fingers twitched as he resisted the urge to reach out and trace them.

“Please stop staring,” whispered Remus. “I know how it looks.”

Sirius returned his gaze to the other boy’s face to see an expression of pain and embarrassment there. He wished he was good at words, wished he knew how to tell Remus that he didn’t think any less of him, that he was _honored_ by this experience, that Remus looked somehow even more like himself than usual, whatever that meant.

Instead, he looked away silently and tried to focus on the task at hand. He had never taught anybody anything before.

“Okay,” he said once he’d cleared his thoughts. “So a glamour like this might not be as thorough as the one you do during the day. Like, maybe it’ll look more like your scars are a trick of the light, rather than making you look flawless, you know?” Sirius blushed slightly and silently thanked Merlin that Remus didn’t comment on the fact that he’d just described Remus as flawless instead of his skin. “Er. So I guess I sort of start pulling magic around me, like I would for a full glamour, but then I stop when it feels loose instead of tightening it up.”

Sirius glanced at Remus to see an expression of absolute bafflement.

“What?”

“What do you mean, you pull the magic towards you and you feel it?”

Sirius frowned. “Well, you know. It’s just like with casting any other spell.”

“You can honestly _feel_ magic when you’re casting?”

“Of course. Can’t you?”

“No. I’ve never heard of that.”

They stared at each other in bewilderment. Sirius was trying to sort out whether his experience was the outlyer or Remus’s. Now that he thought about it, he couldn’t remember any of their Professors, or even his private tutors, ever describing magic quite the way he felt it.

“I just assumed everyone could. You mean you feel nothing when you cast?”

Remus shook his head. “Not _nothing_. I feel it like, run through me, sort of, and I can feel if I’ve been affected by my own magic or someone else’s or by something Dark, but I certainly don’t feel the magic gather around me before I cast.”

Sirius’s mind was working so hard to try to process this information, that he almost missed what Remus had just said.

“Wait -- why do you know what Dark magic feels like?” He shuddered. He’d encountered enough Dark artefacts in his house to know exactly how bitter and cloying that particular brand of magic could feel.

“Why do you know how to cast a glamour in your sleep?” Remus replied steadily.

Sirius pouted at him for a moment, but Remus didn’t back down.

“Fine,” he said at last. “If you don’t feel magic like I do, let’s try it like this instead. Imagine that your normal glamour is like armour, right? It’s impenetrable, and it completely surrounds you. Do you visualize it surrounding you when you form it?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, good. So this type of glamour is more like a cloak. It’s going to rest gently on you. It might move a little bit, but it’s still there. Can you picture that?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Try to hold that in mind and set up your glamour.”

Remus closed his eyes, and Sirius watched as his scars slowly rippled and faded. Sirius felt as though he could almost tell that something was on his skin, but he just couldn’t get the right angle to see it.

“That looks great. Does it feel different?”

Remus wrinkled his brow. “A little. How am I supposed to know if it works in my sleep?”

Sirius hadn’t thought that far. “I could stay here to check?”

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to fall asleep with you watching me.”

“Sure you will. Just imagine that I’m watching out for you. Like a guardian angel. Or a guard dog.”

Remus smiled, still keeping his eyes closed. “That fits. A big, goofy dog that barks until it gets attention.”

“Goofy?” Sirius scoffed. “I was imagining more an intimidating, sleek dog that will keep intruders away just by glaring at them.”

Remus yawned. “That sounds more like a cat.”

Sirius was about to retort, but he noticed that Remus’s breathing was already slowing into the even breathing of sleep.

“Night, Re.”

“Night, Siri.”

Remus’s glamour didn’t even flicker as he fell into sleep. Sirius sighed and rolled onto his side. Might as well stay a bit longer, just to make sure.


	5. Chapter 5: Change is in the Air

“Sirius? Sirius!”

Remus scrunched his eyes closed tighter, trying to tune James’s voice out. It wasn’t even anywhere near the moon, but he felt like he was constantly behind on schoolwork and, therefore, on sleep as well.

James, however, had no appreciation for Remus’s exhaustion.

“Remus, get up. Sirius is -- oh.”

Remus was suddenly very awake, but fighting against the tension in his muscles that told him to run, because James’s last word had been accompanied by his curtains being ripped open, and he wasn’t glamoured yet --

His glamour. Sirius. Right.

Remus finally peaked an eye open to find that he was, fortunately, facing away from James, towards Sirius, who must have fallen asleep in his bed the night before. Remus rapidly tried to process if that meant that his attempts to glamour himself while he slept succeeded or failed.

“Keep it down, will you, Jamie? Some of us are trying to sleep,” Sirius said, grinning cheekily.

“Sirius. Merlin’s sake, mate, you scared me half to death.”

“I’m a big boy. I can look after myself.”

James snorted in clear disbelief.

“Why weren’t you in your own bed? I’ve already sent Peter down to check the common room.”

Remus watched Sirius shrug. “I fell asleep. You know how it is. I fall asleep on your bed all the time.”

“I know. And I would never subject poor Remus to the horrors of sleeping next to you.”

Sirius frowned. “I’ll have you know that I didn’t have a single nightmare.”

Remus frowned, as well. He couldn’t remember having any, either.

“Why are you and Peter up so early, anyway?”

“It’s hardly early.”

“Must be, if Remus is still sleeping,” countered Sirius.

“You must be aware that I’m not sleeping through this, despite all the apparent concern for my sleep,” said Remus, figuring the fact that he hadn’t moved since James opened his curtains wouldn’t go unremarked on for long.

“It’s not early, though. It’s half nine. I was just going to see if you wanted to go down to the Quidditch pitch with me.”

Half nine? Remus hadn’t slept that late in ages, other than the mornings after the full. Lily was probably wondering why he wasn’t at breakfast. And he had work to be doing. But he couldn’t move until he was sure that his glamour was fully in place.

He finally caught Sirius’s eye and raised his eyebrows in a silent plea.

Sirius seemed to catch on, or he jumped out of bed, at any rate.

“Sure thing, Jamie. Remus, want to meet us down there whenever you’ve finished your beauty sleep?”

“I’ll think about it. Close the curtains for me, yeah?”

Sirius winked at him as he pulled the curtains tight around his bed. Remus could hear James following suit. Remus sighed and sat up, fumbling for his wand and the mirror he had in his bedside table. He took a deep, bracing breath as he held it up to his face --

\-- but it seemed the glamour had held. Sirius was right; it wasn’t as thorough of a glamour as he normally used, but it would do at a glance.

Well. That experiment had been a success, then. He went about resetting his usual glamour, feeling a bit lighter than usual.

***

Regulus would never admit it to anyone, but he had to convince the Sorting Hat to put him into Slytherin.

“I see a lot of bravery here,” the Hat had whispered to him. “Gryffindor might --”

“I am not going to be a Gryffindor,” Regulus thought at it, trying to strike as firm of a tone as he could in his own head. “Put me into Slytherin.”

“Are you sure? Imagine what it might be like to foster some of that bravery…”

“No. It’s safest for me to be in Slytherin. Self-preservation is a Slytherin instinct, right? Doesn’t that prove it?”

The Hat had the nerve to _chuckle_ at him.

“Is it self-preservation, though? Or is it a selfless sacrifice designed to let you help someone else?”

Regulus’s eyes trailed over to where Sirius was watching him and chewing his lip.

“Even if you’re right, that’s all the more proof that I need to be in Slytherin,” Regulus thought, refusing to think about how desperate his thoughts sounded. “I need to learn self-preservation if I don’t already have it.”

“If you insist, lad. SLYTHERIN!”

Regulus breathed a sigh of relief and ripped the Hat off his head.

And now, one month into the school year, he didn’t regret his decision. And he hadn’t been lying to the Hat; he was terrified of how his parents would react if he was Sorted into Gryffindor.

But he also was trying to look out for his brother. Ever since Sirius had left for Hogwarts last year, Regulus had fully begun to understand all the ways that Sirius had kept him safe growing up. Regulus had suddenly found himself subjected to punishments that previously had only been inflicted on his brother, and he found that adhering to his perfect-Black-son image didn’t keep him in his parents’ good graces as well when there was no Sirius around to serve as a distraction for their stricter impulses.

So he was more than happy to be the Slytherin in the family. What he was not happy about, though, was how difficult Sirius was proving to protect.

Not that it was all Sirius’s fault. Yes, his brother was a reckless buffoon who was going to get himself killed one day, but Regulus’s first lesson in Slytherin cunning was that he couldn’t protect his brother unless his Housemates trusted him, but they wouldn’t trust him if they thought he felt any affection towards Sirius.

And so now he was sitting in the common room, helping the others prepare for their upcoming demonstration, trying to keep track of which students were excitedly whispering about the idea that things might turn violent. Regulus could picture Sirius and his band of Gryffindors reacting poorly to the Slytherins’ protest and making themselves easy targets for those looking for an excuse to start flinging hexes.

Regulus wanted to pound his head onto the table. He had thought about warning his brother, but he was fairly sure that would backfire on him; no way would Sirius stay out of the way if Regulus told him what the Slytherins were planning. Maybe the Hat was right; maybe he wasn’t cut out to be a Slytherin. He didn’t seem to have a knack for manipulating people to his will.

Instead, all he could do was hope that Sirius would be elsewhere in the castle when the protest started.


	6. Chapter 6: Powder Keg

“Thank you all for joining me,” said James in a grave tone. He was sitting on the same couch in the common room as Sirius, but he somehow managed to make himself the center of their group. “I'm sure you're wondering why I've called you all here.”

“Better not be to complain about Snape again,” Sirius grumbled. He still hadn't forgiven James for landing them both a week of detentions when they were caught by Professor McGonagall as James tried to slip yet another note about the Slytherin onto his best friend's desk.

“Not at all,” said James. “I have come to the conclusion that we need a name.”

Sirius looked at Remus and Peter, and saw that they were just as confused as he was. “A name for what?”

“For us!” James exclaimed. “For the four of us, so we don't have to say 'Peter, Sirius, Remus, and James' when we're talking about us as a group!”

Sirius smiled. “That's not a bad idea. It can be something cool, that tells other people not to mess with us. Like 'The Dragons.'”

Peter made a face. “We can't call ourselves that. People will laugh at us.” Sirius scowled.

“Should it be something related to Gryffindor, maybe?” Remus suggested.

“The Lions,” said Sirius.

“The Griffons,” replied Remus.

“Are you still on about that? I thought we agreed last year that our mascot is definitely a lion, not a griffon.”

“We're called _Gryffindor_!”

“That was his name, idiot!”

“Guys, can we please focus?” pleaded James. He also thought this debate had been settled last year.

“Did you have a name in mind, James?” asked Remus. They all turned to face James.

Sirius wasn't entirely sure how, but somehow, over the last year, James had become the leader of their group. Remus liked to fade into the background, and Peter liked having someone to look up to, and Sirius – well, Sirius was the obvious choice for a leader, but he didn't mind having James take on the role. Sirius wasn't even sure what was so great about being the leader, anyway.

“No,” sighed James. “I thought if we were all together, something might come to us.”

They sat in silence for several more minutes, but none of them had a burst of inspiration.

“Maybe we're going about this wrong,” suggested Remus. “The best names don't come by force. Maybe we can't name ourselves. Maybe we have to let others tell us what we are first.”

Sirius looked at Remus, and then at the other two. “Did that make sense to either of you?”

“No, he's right,” said James. “Our reputation is already legendary. All we have to do is wait to see what other people call us.”

Sirius was skeptical at James's use of the word “legendary,” but he decided to let it slide.

“What do you think, Peter?” asked James. Sirius darted his eyes to the other boy, only to notice that he didn’t seem to be paying attention at all. Instead, Peter was frowning at something behind the couch James and Sirius were sitting on.

Sirius turned his head to look and saw James doing the same next to him. He scanned the common room, but saw nothing out of the ordinary: Older students were studying, a couple First Years were playing Wizards’ Chess, and a group of Fourth Years were sat in the corner giggling over a magazine. He glanced at James to see his confusion mirrored. He looked to Remus for answers next, but received only a shrug in response.

“Um, Petey? Earth to Pettigrew?” tried Sirius. Peter snapped his attention to them.

“Something’s going on,” he murmured.

“What do you see?” James asked, in a cautious tone of voice that suggested he expected to have to check Peter into a secure ward at St. Mungo’s shortly.

“A few minutes ago, Dhalia Hughes came in and whispered something to one of the Prefects. All the Prefects huddled together and then left. A couple other older students went with them.” Peter’s eyes were bouncing around the room as he spoke. “They don’t want anyone to know, but something is definitely happening.”

Sirius was skeptical. “It’s probably something boring, like a last-minute Prefects meeting.”

“I don’t think so,” Peter said.

“Well,” James said, bouncing off the sofa, “what are we waiting for, then? Let’s check it out.”

***

Later, Remus would reflect that they shouldn’t have been so surprised by what they found. At the time, they were picturing something dramatic but ultimately mundane: maybe two older students publically breaking up, or a fifth year having a breakdown from OWLs stress.

Instead, they found what seemed to be all of Slytherin sitting on the floor, blocking the doorway to the Great Hall. Several of them were holding signs.

_Make Pro-Muggle Lessons History_ , one read.

_Abolish Hogwarts’ Pro-Muggle Agenda_ , said another.

“What’s going on?” asked James. None of the others had an answer for him.

Several groups of people were standing across from the Slytherins, talking furiously amongst themselves and glaring at the protestors. And there were professors present, as well. Remus noticed Slughorn frowning as he talked with McGonagall not far from where the Slytherins were set up.

“Come on, let’s ask someone,” said Peter, leading their way towards a group that included several Gryffindor Prefects.

Kingsley Shacklebolt, a fifth year Prefect, frowned when he saw them approaching.

“What are you kids doing down here?”

Remus felt more than saw Sirius and James bristle at the word “kids.” He personally found it rather funny to be referred to as a “kid” by someone only a few years older than him, but he wasn’t ready to make a whole thing out of it.

“What is all this?” he asked before his friends could respond to the slight.

“They’re protesting a unit taught in third year History of Magic,” responded a girl standing next to Kingsley, wearing a Hufflepuff tie. “Apparently, the textbook suggests that intermarrying between Muggles and Wizards kept us from going extinct at one point. They think that’s biased and doesn’t represent ‘their side of history,’ whatever that means.”

“As if anyone even pays attention in Binns’s class,” muttered Onyx Croyota, the other fifth year Gryffindor Prefect. “I don’t even remember that unit.”

“That’s ridiculous,” said James. “Why aren’t the professors doing anything?”

“It’s a peaceful protest,” responded Remus automatically. “They have a right to do that, as long as they’re just sitting here.”

James turned to stare at him, eyes wide. “Don’t tell me you agree with them?”

“Of course not,” Remus huffed. “How could you think that? It’s clearly more of the same of the anti-Muggle rhetoric that the Slytherins have been spreading since Flint was appointed. But they’re still allowed to hold a demonstration, however misguided it might be.”

“He’s right,” said Kingsley. “I don’t like it any more than you do, but there’s nothing anyone can do as long as things don’t turn violent.”

Remus shuttered to think at how easily exactly that might happen, and automatically turned to make sure none of his friends were getting ready to do anything stupid, when he realized --

“Where’s Sirius?”

James and Peter immediately whipped their heads up to look for themselves. Remus frantically began searching the students that seemed to be pressing closer to the Slytherins, but most of them were older, and it was hard to see if any younger students had slipped among them.

“There!”

Remus turned to look where Peter was pointing, and they headed as one towards where Sirius stood, by where they’d first spotted the protest, seemingly frozen in place.

“You okay, mate? What’s happened?” asked James, placing his hand on Sirius’s shoulder, as if getting ready to shake him.

“Regulus.”

Remus felt a fleeting moment of relief that nothing was wrong with Sirius, and then immediately felt guilty as his eyes spotted Regulus amongst the protestors. Of course Sirius was worried about his brother’s involvement.

“Come on, let’s get out of here. We don’t want to be here if things get bad,” said Peter. Sirius shook his head.

“You guys go ahead. I can’t leave knowing Reg’s here.”

“I’ll stay with you,” said James.

“We’ll _all_ stay,” said Remus, exchanging a look with Peter that said, _who knows what these two will get up to without us_.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” asked James.

Remus frowned. “You just said --”

“I just mean, it’s an anti-Muggle protest. If things escalate, you’re…”

Remus raised an eyebrow, daring James to finish his sentence.

“You’re half-Muggle,” he said, not breaking eye contact. “You’ll be in more danger than the rest of us.”

“Jamie’s right,” agreed Sirius. “You should go, Re.”

“I’m not leaving. And anyway, what’s the worst that could happen? There are professors right here. At most, they’ll throw a few hexes and run.”

Despite what he said, Remus couldn’t keep himself from glancing nervously at where a few older Gryffindors seemed to be taunting the Slytherins. He knew at least some people on both sides wouldn’t be upset to have an excuse to pull out their wands.

“How long do you think they plan to stay here, anyway?” asked Peter.

“They must think they’ll still be here when people start coming down for dinner, right? Otherwise, why choose the Great Hall?” said James.

“They must have something more planned than this,” muttered Sirius. “These are Slytherins.”

“Maybe they think they’ll make more headway if they stick to peaceful methods,” said Remus, although he hadn’t stopped scanning the group for signs that something might happen.

But the longer they stood, waiting for something to happen, the more it seemed like nothing would.

Eventually, other students began coming down for dinner. The hallway quickly filled with students who craned their necks to see what was going on.

Remus watched other students react. He saw those who laughed at the protest as if it was some great joke, those who approached the Slytherins and seemed to engage them in genuine conversation, those who shrunk back when they realized what was going on, and those who seemed more irritated by the delay then upset by the content of the protest.

_Maybe they don’t need anything more disruptive than this_ , he thought. _Not yet, anyway._

“Are they going to sit here all night?” asked Peter.

“Maybe they thought they’d all get sent to detention by now,” suggested James.

“Look -- it’s Dumbledore,” said Remus, nodding towards where the Headmaster was approaching the protestors.

“Good evening, students,” said Dumbledore, as a hush fell over the crowd. Remus noticed that the Headmaster was smiling. “It’s been several years since the last time I saw a group of students come together to organize a protest, so I must thank you all for engaging in this sacred civil practice. Hogwarts is, after all, a community like any other, and it’s important for any group within the community to have ways to make their voices heard. So any student who wishes to speak to me about this issue may come by my office tomorrow after classes have finished for the day.” He turned to scan the Slytherins. “Will that meet your demands, so to speak, for the evening?”

The protestors murmured amongst themselves for a few minutes until a hulking student seated at the front spoke up.

“We’ll talk to you tomorrow, Professor, but know that we don’t demand merely talking, but action!”

A rush of noise met this declaration, not only from the agreeing Slytherins, but from several students in the crowd, who seemed to be expressing their disapproval at the notion.

“For now, I can promise only to listen. Shall we put this aside for now so that we might have fuller bellies and clearer heads when we return to the topic tomorrow?”

Remus felt almost amazed as he watched the Slytherins silently get up and lead the way into the Great Hall as conversation erupted behind them.

“Thank Merlin,” muttered Sirius.

“Thank Dumbledore, more like,” said Peter.

“I don’t know,” said Remus. “What’s he going to say to them tomorrow? He’s treating them like their concerns are legitimate ones, and you heard what they said: They want action.”

“I’m sure he’ll think of something,” said James. “He’s Dumbledore.”

“I really thought they were going to do something,” said Sirius.

Remus didn’t want to say it out loud, but he couldn’t quiet the nagging feeling that they still might.


End file.
